They couldn’t return
Zaheer and Zohra Dauwer stood at the decrepit doorway of a Hamilton, Ont., shelter, still holding onto their two 20-kilogram suitcases. They waited as a staff member ran through a list of rules and regulations for the young Afghan couple who, still clad in their winter jackets, had nowhere else to go.
On May 26, 2009, the husband and wife were more than10,750 kilometres from their home in Kabul, Afghanistan, where family was everywhere, ready to welcome them at any moment with love and hospitality.
They had never planned to leave Kabul. Zaheer was completing a masters program in Arizona so he could be qualified to teach English as a second language. Their plan was always to go back to Afghanistan.
But the U.S.-led war had become more violent. By 2009, the streets of Kabul were littered with the remains of rockets, hand bombs and grenades. Suicide attacks were common. Many in the country had never imagined someone from their city putting on a vest and blowing themselves up.
Over the phone, their families warned them not to return. They were told by friends to go to Canada, which, they said, was more hospitable and welcoming than the U.S. Zaheer and Zohra’s profiles as Englishspeaking foreign NGO employees made them more likely to be targeted by insurgent groups.
“It was the worst time to be in Afghanistan,” their families told them. “Don’t come back.”
In the past 30 years, Afghan refugees have consistently streamed into Canada — more so than any other country, including Syria. A total of 37,265 Afghans have arrived since 1991.
The Star spoke to three generations of Afghan-Canadian refugees who have fled during the Soviet-led war beginning in 1979 and during the ongoing U.S.-led war against the Taliban that began in 2001, which Canada was once a part of. The numbers of Afghan refugees are expected only to grow as militant violence increases and aid groups slowly withdraw from the country.
As the war and its players have dramatically shifted over the decades, the process to seek safety as an Afghan refugee has changed — from a relatively simple process in the 80s and 90s to a more arduous system today.
The Dauwers were part of the second wave of refugees to Canada, arriving at a time when the U.S.-led war was at its peak and local elections were causing more unrest in Afghanistan. Meanwhile, the process of
“We did not know if we would be allowed to go in.” ZAHEER DAUWER CAME TO CANADA AS A REFUGEE IN 2009 WITH HIS WIFE
asylum had started to become more procedural in the West, with the introduction of the Safe Third Country Act between Canada and the U.S. limiting who could seek asylum where.
Luckily for Zaheer and Zohra, Afghanistan was exempted from the Safe Third Country Act the year they decided to become refugees. The process took six months and started in the waiting room of the Canadian Border Services Agency office at Fort Erie.
“We did not know if we would be allowed to go in,” Zaheer said. “What would we do if we were sent back?”
The relief of being allowed to come to Canada is something neither of them will forget. Once admitted, the young couple gave $100 to an Iranian cab driver who took them to Hamilton, to the only refugee shelter in Ontario he knew had space for a young married couple. On the way, their driver listed for them every Afghan food place and community hub he could think of.
“We knew no one,” Zohra said. “We had no phone, no internet.” That first night in the shelter, they bought calling cards and went to a pay phone to call their parents in Kabul, who were anxiously waiting for news. When he heard his dad’s voice filled with relief, Zaheer cried.
“You’re just so new here,” Zaheer said. “I was now somewhere where I didn’t know how to establish myself and take care of us.”
They became permanent residents on their wedding anniversary in November 2009. A small photo of their wedding, vibrant with traditional green and red, hangs in their elegant suburban Mississauga condo. The Afghan wedding dress is one of the only things Zohra brought with her.
“Coming here, we knew there were certain restrictions,” Zohra said, “If you don’t meet this criteria you’re not eligible to apply. (We had) emotions of being scared, and what if they send me back, and don’t admit me here.”
Both are now working toward new dreams. Zaheer tried to become a public school teacher while working as a translator for new Afghan refugees. He’s now studying to continue to work in the immigration and settlement field.
“Here, I’ve been reminded to embrace that identity from my homeland where I was born and raised and embrace that in this adopted homeland that I’ve chosen to call home,” he said. “We will always have a connection to Afghanistan. That’s where I was born, that’s where I was raised. I still have family there.”
Zohra is training to be a nurse. The couple had two children in Canada, a boy, 4 and a girl, 6. They try to teach their children Afghan values of family, charity and generosity. Someday, she said, she’ll tell them about the shelter, how she stood at the doorway and looked straight into the unknown.